


An Unexpected Landing

by Tsaiko



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Dwarves, Dwarves in Space, Elves, Men - Freeform, Mild Language, Minor Injuries, Orcs, Outer Space, Pre-Relationship, Space Battles, Space Ships, Thorin Is an Idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 20:13:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4276455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsaiko/pseuds/Tsaiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Attention all flight decks. Attention all flight decks. We have a severely damaged fighter incoming. Flight leaders, please join comm link 539 if you can accommodate."</p><p>The announcement came in over the battle cruiser's comm system, cutting through the general chaos that always happened after battle. None of the dwarves in the crew paused in their work. All of them frowned in confusion though. Gloin was the one who gave voice to the words everyone was thinking.</p><p>"I thought they'd already called the count."</p><p>"They did," Thorin replied. </p><p>***</p><p>When a call goes out for a clear flight deck so a crippled elvish fighter piloted by a Hobbit can land, Thorin volunteers his own flight deck. Not because he has a generous spirit. No, it's just to one-up the elves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unexpected Landing

**Author's Note:**

> I refuse to take responsibility for the title. That's all Miome, who helped me come up with some ideas, fix plot holes, and beta-read this.

"Attention all flight decks. Attention all flight decks. We have a severely damaged fighter incoming. Flight leaders, please join comm link 539 if you can accommodate."

The announcement came in over the battle cruiser's comm system, cutting through the general chaos that always happened after battle. None of the dwarves in the crew paused in their work. All of them frowned in confusion though. Gloin was the one who gave voice to the words everyone was thinking.

"I thought they'd already called the count."

"They did," Thorin replied. All of the fighters from the Rivendell had been accounted for. He hurried over to the comm, put in the channel code, and announced his presence. "This is Thorin Oakenshield, flight deck seven, dwarrow unit."

Thorin frowned when he heard chatter – in Sindarin of course, damn elves – on the channel. Protocol was to keep the channel clear in emergencies. It figured that the elves thought the rules didn't apply to them. Or that it was perfectly acceptable to converse on a public channel in a language half the ship couldn't understand.

"This is Commander Elrond." The Sindarin chatter immediately died down to nothing. "We have a severely damaged fighter with injuries from Station Bree that needs to make an emergency landing. Flight decks four, fifteen, and eight thru eleven are all reporting as damaged or at capacity. I need a status from any deck that can accommodate."

"What type of ship is it?" someone asked. Thorin didn't recognize the voice.

"It's an Elemmirë class fighter. There is only the pilot on-board. A Hobbit," Elrond replied.

A Hobbit? In an elvish fighter? The Elemmirë class were some of the smallest of the elvish fighters, so in theory a hobbit would be able to handle it.

"This is Linder, leader of flight deck three. We aren't equipped for smaller craft."

"Flight deck two, same report."

"Flight deck one as well."

"This is Thorin, flight deck seven. We have experience in dealing with rough landings and injured pilots." From behind him on the flight deck, Thorin could hear Bofur's cry of "It was just that one time!"

"Given that it is an elvish fighter, perhaps it would be better if the ship was directed to a flight deck with elven mechanics. Not dwarves." To say the voice was condescending would be like saying space was cold. Thorin gritted his teeth. It would not serve him well to respond. "We can have our flight deck clear in fifteen minutes."

"We can have ours cleared in five," Thorin snapped out. He heard his crew scrambling behind him, Balin calling out orders. His crew didn't need to wait for his commands. They knew what to do. 

"Thorin, if you can get your flight deck cleared in five minutes, we'll direct the pilot to land there. Call me back at the bridge when you are ready."

"Understood. Thorin out."

Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds later Thorin called the bridge to let them know that flight deck seven was clear. They'd put their two damaged fighter planes in the cradles and hoisted them off the deck. It would be a pain to get them back down for repairs later, but that was a small price to pay to get one up on the elves.

"Flight deck seven, depressurize your deck and stand by," came the order. 

"Everyone in the fishbowl," Thorin yelled as he punched in a series of commands into the console. "Three minutes to depressurization."

Flashing red lights started up, and the automatic countdown began. Thorin ignored the digital sounding voice that told him to quickly evacuate the flight deck. By the time he got to the carbanine reinforced plastic holding room – the fishbowl as they all called it – there was forty-five seconds remaining on the count.

"Sound off," Thorin yelled. One by one the dwarrows in his crew responded, grouped by family, Fili. Kili. Dwalin. Balin. Gloin. Oin. Dori, Nori. Ori. Bofur. Bombur. Bifur. By the time they were done, the countdown was almost to zero.

"Three. Two. One. Zero. Depressurization is eminent. Will the highest ranking deck personnel please confirm that the flight deck is clear."

"Thorin Oakenshield. Leader, flight deck seven. All crew members accounted for. Flight deck is clear. Depressurization authorized."

"Voice recognition confirmed. Depressurization authorized."

There was no sound. The only indication that the flight deck had lost pressure was the slight shift of the equipment stowed in the cargo nets, and the bright red light over the door to the airlock between the fishbowl and the flight deck. Less than a minute later, the digital voice announced that depressurization was complete. Thorin turned to a comm unit, and contacted the bridge.

"Flight deck seven is depressurized. Awaiting orders," Thorin said.

"Confirmed." Thorin was a little surprised to hear Elrond's voice coming over the comm. He could hear clicking, and the sound of voices in the background. Things did not seem calm on the bridge. "Flight deck seven, open door and stand-by. We have support personnel and medics en route. They should be at your deck soon and will wait for you to give safety clearance. They'll have an emergency cockpit override key for the fighter."

"Understood. Thorin out."

"Won't need to wait," Nori said as soon as Thorin cut the line. Thorin looked over at him, raising an eyebrow in question. Nori responded with a grin, and pressed a length of metal into Thorin's hand. "Officially, we got that off an elvish mechanic when did we a stint on the Dale. Unofficially, I got a little something that'll replicate an override key for any fighter class ship."

"Of course you do," Dori said with a huff. Nori had been a salvager before he'd joined Thorin's crew. Vultures, as they were commonly called. His unique skills had proven useful more times than Thorin could count. He was willing to overlook a lot of things in return.

"Officially, I didn't hear any of that and don't know anything about an illegal override key replicator," Thorin said as he palmed the key. "Unofficially, keep it out of sight in case we ever need it again."

Nori gave a cocky little salute. "The inspectors will never find it."

Once Thorin had input the correct commands, the doors slid open. They could all feel the vibration through their boots. It was a higher frequency sensation than the background vibrations that normally occurred on the ship. Soon the doors were completely open. Outside the ship was the darkness of space studded with thousands of white stars.

"I wonder how a hobbit got a hold of an elvish fighter," Kili asked. "And why. I thought hobbits didn't fight." Thorin sighed. 

"Can you at least pretend you weren't listening in on the comm?" Thorin asked. Kili didn't even bother to look ashamed.

"You know everyone was wondering the same thing," Kili said. "I'm the only one who was willing to say it."

"That's not always a virtue," Fili replied. Kili shoved his shoulder, but Fili ignored it. Thorin shook his head. He opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by an incoming message from the comm. 

"Bridge to flight deck seven. Fighter is incoming. We are in contact with the pilot, but have no status updates. Damages to the ship are unknown. The extent of the pilot's injuries are unknown. We have confirmed that he is the only occupant. Report when you have a visual." There was a brief pause and clicking over the comm. "The pilot is going to attempt to land the fighter. He was able to confirm that the autopilot is out."

"Understood," Thorin replied. He looked at Dwalin. "His injuries must be bad if they are in contact, but can't get updates."

"We'll know soon enough. The ship just came into view," Dwalin said nodding towards the open bay doors.

The Elemmirë, like most elvish ships, was all graceful curves and blueish metal. Or at least, at one point it had been. One whole side of the fighter had been mangled. The right thruster was completely gone, with only the secondary providing any sort of propulsion on that side, meaning that the left thruster had to be kept to minimum power in order to keep the fighter from going around in circles. The only remaining blaster was holding on by a few bolts. Black scorch marks from laser fire covered most of the intact metal. The rest had been twisted or sheared off completely. Thorin could see exposed wires and electronics. The gravity from the Rivendell began to affect the fighter as it entered the bay, causing it to list to one side. 

"How is that thing even still flying?" Bombur asked.

"By the grace of Mahal," Bofur said in awe. 

"Bridge, we have a visual on the fighter," Thorin said. He watched it drift forward. The left side barely cleared the bay opening. "Heavy damage to the entire right side. Propulsion systems damaged. Weapons system completely offline. The safety systems may or may not still work. Hull integrity is compromised. Comm systems damaged. It would quicker for me to just list the systems that aren't damaged." The nose of the fighter was too low and the landing gear scraped along the deck with a continuous grating sound. Everyone in his crew winced. "I think the landing gear was fine until he tried to land."

The nose gear missed the first deck lock, but hit the second one. It clicked into place. The ship spun slightly to the right before it abruptly settled on the deck. The engines were still going.

"Bridge, ask the pilot to cut the engines," Thorin said. There was a brief pause with muted voices in the background before the elf on the bridge came back on the comm.

"Flight deck seven, the pilot says the engines are stuck on. You'll need to disable them manually," the bridge replied. Thorin cursed under his breath. And they had expected them to do this without the cockpit override key how? It was a good thing Nori was on his crew.

"Close bay doors. Start pressurization," Thorin barked at the computer. "Authorization Thorin Oakenshield, Leader, flight deck seven."

"Voice recognition confirmed. Bay doors closing." The vibration of the doors started again. It seemed to take forever, but eventually they shut. "Pressurization authorized. Beginning sequence. Pressurization in forty-three seconds. Forty-two. Forty-one..."

"Pressurizing the flight deck might cause the engines to fail," Bombur warned. 

"Give it long enough, those engines will overheat and fail anyways," Thorin replied. "It'll take us too long to suit up. Pressurizing the deck is our best chance of saving the pilot."

No one argued. Once Thorin made a decision, his crew was behind him. He just hoped he'd made the right one.

"We'll need to strap it down first," Balin said. The difference in engine strength on either side was causing the fighter to skitter across the flight deck. As the pressure in the flight deck increased, they could hear the juddering sound of metal on metal. "Fili and Kili are the fastest of us, Dwalin and Dori the strongest."

"Agreed. Fili, Kili get the cables. Dwalin and Dori will be on winches one and two respectively. Ori, grab the ladder. As soon as the fighter is strapped down, I'll get the cockpit open," Thorin said. "Oin, I'll need you to deal with the pilot once we have him out. Our first priority is the pilot. Second is the engines."

The countdown hit zero. The light above the airlock door turned green a split second before the door unlocked and slid open. Fili and Kili took off at a dead run. They quickly pulled out the reinforced cables from storage and hooked them to the fighters. Dwalin and Dori took up their positions at the winches. Fili and Kili ran the other ends to the winches and threaded them. As soon as they were done, Dwalin and Dori began winching.

"Gloin, get the third winch. We'll need another cable on it," Thorin yelled. The fighter was still shaking along the deck, and the engines had taken on a distressing whine that Thorin did not like.

Thorin watched as Kili attached yet another cable to the fighter, before he ducked under the still skittering ship to avoid the engines without having to go completely around. He bit back the yell that clawed up from his throat. Reckless. Absolutely reckless. But Thorin didn't dare distract his crew by yelling.

The cable and winch system began to do its job as Gloin started winching. Soon the fighter was pinned to the deck. One of the support struts had crumpled, so it leaned to one side. But it was no longer moving. That was the important part.

Ori raced over with a short ladder on wheels, placing it against the left side of the fighter. The side without the crumpled strut. Thorin was on the second step by the time he had the braces set, Nori's key in his hand. It fit in the cockpit hatch override hole perfectly, and with a flick of his wrist, the hatch unlocked. He got his fingers under it and pulled it up. With the way the fighter was tilting, Thorin had to practically hoist himself into the cockpit to see inside.

The cockpits of all fighter class ships were designed to protect the pilot at all costs, so Thorin had assumed that the cockpit had taken damage along with the rest of the ship. After all, the hobbit was reported injuries, possibly extensive ones. The cockpit taking damage the usual explanation for such injuries. However, here was no damage to the cockpit that Thorin could see. It was remarkably intact given the state of the rest of the ship.

It was immediately obvious that the reason the pilot was injured was because of the safety harness. Elvish fighters were piloted by elves or men, and the harness has been designed with those proportions in mind. Hobbits, Thorin noted, were a different sort altogether. The safety harness was far too loose, and the hobbit had been thrown around the cockpit at some point.

The hobbit was short. Shorter than even dwarrows, and Thorin wondered if the halfling had heard as many jokes about height as his crew had. It wasn't delicately built like an elf, even though its ears came to points like one. Nor was the hobbit sturdy like a dwarf, but instead had a layer of softness. The halfling's hair was short and curly, though caked in blood on one side. Itsgaze was unfocused when it settled on Thorin.

"Did I land?" The hobbit sounded male, but it was hard to tell with the other races. Gloin still referred to all elves as she, and to be honest, Thorin couldn't tell the males from females half the time. Thorin didn't respond. Instead he began to undo the buckles on the harness.

"Dori, I'll need you to help me get the halfling out safely," Thorin called out. "Ori bring another ladder up to the other side of the fighter." The buckles were hard to do one handed, but Thorin managed. His other hand was braced against the side of the fighter, and his feet were barely touching the ladder. He could still hear the whine of the engines, driving him to move faster.

"You've already got most of the buckles," Dori said less than a minute later, as he assessed the situation in the cockpit. Thorin grunted in acknowledgement. There were only two buckles left. His hair had fallen forward, trailing irritatingly in his eyes, but Thorin did not have a hand free to push it back.

"Your hair is so pretty," the hobbit said in a dazed voice. His hand reached up to touch. Thorin couldn't stop his flinch. He forced himself to concentrate on the last buckles instead. Strange fingers ghosted over his braids, gentle trailing against the skin at his temples. The only reason Thorin didn't react more violently was because the Hobbit was obviously injured. "Oh. I'm sorry. My hands are a mess. I'd hate to get your hair dirty."

"Do not worry about it," Thorin said through clenched teeth. The buckle finally gave way under his fingers. He leaned back and took his hair with him, far out of the reach of curious hobbits. 

Dori was giving him a smile that would look more at home on Nori's face, though Thorin would never say such a thing. It wouldn't be worth the weeks of icy politeness. Still he knew what that smile meant. Everyone in the crew would know about the hobbit's flirting as soon as this mess was done.

"Master hobbit, I'm going to try lifting you out now," Dori said. "Please hold still and don't try to help." Thorin moved bits of harness out of the way as Dori spoke. 

"Of course, of course," the hobbit said. He hissed in pain when Dori's arms came up under him. His eyes focused fuzzily on Dori's hair. "Your hair is very lovely as well," he said politely. As if manners dictated that he compliment a dwarf's hair within a few minutes of meeting them.

Then again, maybe they did. What did Thorin know of hobbits? Just that they were not built to pilot elvish fighters safely.

"Thank you," Dori said with grave politeness. Thorin could see the laughter lurking in the crinkles around Dori's eyes. "I'm getting ready to lift you now. Thorin, please help as much as you can."

The angle was all wrong, and Thorin didn't have any real leverage. He mostly just stabilized the hobbit as best he could as Dori did most of the heavy lifting. The hobbit whimpered high in his throat, but gave no other protest. His right arm hung at an odd angle, and two of his fingers looked broken. Oin would be able to tell if the hobbit had any further injuries.

"I have you, Master hobbit. We're going to take a short walk, and then our healer will have a look at you." Dori's voice was calm and soothing as he slowly descended the stairs.

As soon as Dori and the hobbit were clear, Thorin pulled himself up and into the cockpit. It took him a bit of maneuvering to get into the chair. The safety harness dug into his back and legs, but Thorin ignored it. The sound of the engines had increased in both pitch and volume. The whole fighter was shimmying even with being strapped to the flight deck.

The first thing Thorin tried was to shut the power off with the switches. Nothing. Now that he was in the cockpit, Thorin could smell burnt plastic mixed with the faint scent of hot metal. Something was damaged. Probably because of a power surge when the fighter was damaged.

There was a panel. It was a bit loose, but still attached. Normally, Thorin would call for screwdriver to get the panel off, but he didn't have time to mess with the fiddly little screws that elven engineers favored. Instead Thorin dug his fingers under the edge, braced his boot against the floor of the cockpit, and pulled. Muscles in his arms and legs strained with the effort. Blood pounded in his ears, momentarily covering the sound of the engines and the yells of his crew.

Suddenly, the screws gave with the grating sound of metal on metal. It almost hit Thorin in the face as it came off. The only reason it didn't was because of the still connected wires.

Behind the panel was an absolute maze of wires, a couple of lights, a few circuit boards, some capacitors with at least one melted and warped, and other assorted electronic parts. There was also another override switch. Thorin flicked it, but it was as useless as the switches on the control panel. There was no electrical conduit. It was probably hidden somewhere Thorin couldn't easily get to it.

Of course, nothing was labelled. Not even in the curly elvish script. Damn elves.

Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur were nowhere to be seen. They were probably trying to disable the engines using a different access panel. Thorin did not have the experience with elvish ships, so he decided to do things the old-fashioned way: destroy everything and hope something worked.

The first three wires Thorin pulled on came out easily enough, though the jolt of electricity made him jerk back and swear. So the panel was still getting power. That couldn't be good. Thorin didn't let a little thing like electrical shocks stop him though. He needed to get those engines off.

Two more handfuls of wires produced similar shocks. All the little hairs on Thorin's arms were standing on end. Thorin just kept pulling and cursing. The sudden appearance of Bifur on the ladder caused him to jerk back in surprise. Bifur either didn't notice or didn't care. Instead, he handed Thorin a pair of insulated wire cutters. Then he started pointing. 

"Cut that wire. Then the green one. Then the yellow wire in the corner," Bifur said in heavily accented Khuzdul. The shrapnel that was still lodged in his head gleamed in the light. Bifur was the best engineer Thorin had ever worked with, even with his head injuries, and he followed the other dwarf's directions without hesitation.

Cutting the first wire did nothing. Same for the green wire. It was only once Thorin had gotten the wire cutter around the third wire and snipped it that the engines died.

There was a sudden stillness on the flight deck, a tension that was completely different from the one before. The whine of the engines died, leaving only _tick-tick-tick_ of rapidly cooling metal. Adrenaline – or possibly the multiple electrical shocks – made Thorin's heart race. Even time seemed to take a moment to just breathe.

Then Dwalin spoke. "Elvish piece of shit."

All the tension in the air disappeared in a sudden push of laughter. Bifur reached over and slapped Thorin on the shoulder. "No explosions. No death. Good landing."

Thorin wasn't even that surprised. After all, Bofur and Bifur were infamous for having landed their dwarven fighter on the flight deck with no reverse thrusters and no working landing gear. Their standards for what constituted a "good landing" were unbelievably low.

"Balin, call the all clear and let the medics in," Thorin said as he slowly climbed out of the fighter. Now that the emergency was over, Thorin realized he was not as unaffected by the electricity as he'd thought. His head pounded, his arms tingled, and his fingers felt hot and swollen. "Let the elven engineers know we got the engines off."

"Hurt?" Bifur asked. He was frowning at the way Thorin was moving.

"I'll have Oin look at me," Thorin said, knowing from experience that if he didn't, his entire crew would pester him until he did.

Then the doors were opening, and half a dozen elves flooded onto the flight deck. Later. Later he would have Oin look at him. Right now, Thorin had to make sure that his crew didn't cause another "incident." 

Elves. Bane of his existence.

**Author's Note:**

> I loved writing this, mostly because it included several of my favorite things: science fiction, fantasy, and fanfiction. Can't get any better than that.
> 
> Elemmirë: Means star-jewel according the Quenya dictionary I found on-line and possibly is the name of a star or planet.


End file.
